


Pushing Boundaries

by Sir_Nemo



Series: Boundaries 'Verse [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Conversations, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Nemo/pseuds/Sir_Nemo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard has been working for the elves for years, never actually meeting one, until one day he notices an elf watching him work.</p><p>The elf becomes a constant in his life, and the two of them slowly start warming up to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Pushing Boundaries 推开界限](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146015) by [jaja_be_ar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaja_be_ar/pseuds/jaja_be_ar)



> For Hobbit kink-meme. Prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20782335#t20782335
> 
> Dedicated to three wonderful people (you know who you are). For the first because you egged me on and listened to me babbling about plot and character dynamics. For the second for proof-reading and helpful commentary. For the third for good suggestions and general being-thereness. You are all awesome!

It was not a hard job, by any means. All Bard had to do was, about once a week, take his boat from Laketown to the place where the river met the lake, and little up to the river, where there was a dock. From there he had to pick up the barrels that the elves sent down the river. Sometime he had to bring full barrels to the beach for the elves to pick up. All in all, it didn't take much, and the pay was generous considering how poorly the whole of Laketown seemed to be doing, under the rule of the current Master. The pay could keep his family alive and out of the gutter, and that was most important. And dealing with elves meant that the Master didn't want to get rid of him, not just yet. It was a good deal.

Bard hadn't ran into many elves, even if he had been doing this for better part of two years. The elves of Mirkwood didn't much like to associate with humans, especially not after the wood started turning weird. There were a couple of elves who dealt with couple of humans on strict business. Other than that they kept mostly to themselves, and Bard had no desire to dwell too deep into the forest; stories of the monsters lurking in the ever-growing shadows of Mirkwood were a constant favorite among the citizens of Laketown, and he had heard his fair share of them too. The stories were the biggest reason Bard was not worried that anyone was going to take his job. 

Bard had only caught glimpses of the beasts dwelling inside the woods, as he never stepped too far away from the bank of the river. The little he had seen had been enough to make him shiver, and he kept his bow with him at all times.

He was glad that he never ran into anyone on his trips: elves or monsters. There was something unnerving about the Mirkwood's elves; at first glance they looked almost normal, if tall, human, but then the longer one looked at them, the more odd, more inhuman they looked. There was always something a bit off about them, they were too sharp, too thin. They didn't move like people, or sound like people; they felt elemental moving so light and fast, their feet hardly touching the ground, their appearance wild and gorgeous at the same time.

One day Bard was making his usual trip to get the empty barrels from the pick-up spot by the river. He had just managed to get the barrels on the boat and was just about to leave, when he got the sensation of being watched. With as little movement as possible, he put an arrow on his bow, and spun around.

On the other side of the river, by a tree, stood an elf. A male elf with long golden hair, a silver band decorating his head, pale skin, and silken clothes. The elf was watching him intently, unblinking and unfazed at the arrow pointed straight at him.

Bard hesitated, but finally let his bow down. He and the elf watched each other for a while, before Bard jerked away and started to untie the knots of the boat. He had no time to play games with elves.

When he pushed the boat off the dock, he noticed the elf was still there, still watching, looking more bored than anything. Bard lifted his hand in a greeting. The elf tilted his head like he couldn't quite figure out what the gesture meant. Then the elf turned around and disappeared into the woods.

”Bastard,” Bard muttered to himself, before starting towards Laketown. 

\- -

He didn't think about the elf afterwards, until next week when he dropped off some wine barrels to the shore. He also waited there for some empty barrels. He left the full ones on the shore and sat down on his boat, leaning against the rail and staring at the sky above him. He still kept his ears open, just in case.

He didn't manage to sit there long, listening to the sound of water splashing to the sides of the boat, when there was a rustle from the forest, just deliberate enough to give the person who heard it an idea, that if they so choose, the sound-maker could be completely silent.

Bard looked up just in time to see a slender figure jump from the bank of the river. The elf landed on the boat right in front of Bard, hardly even rocking the boat. It was the same elf as the week before. Up close, Bard could take a clearer look at the elf. He was tall and slender, as they were. He was wearing elven clothes, that, though not particularly fancy, cost probably more than everything Bard owned combined. His face was pleasant to look at, at first, with smooth features and dark brows, but there was something off about it, as with all elves, it looked unreal the longer one looked at it. Then there were the eyes, they were brilliantly blue, a shade no man could have.

”If you're here for the wine, it's over there,” Bard said, and nudged his head towards the beach. The elf didn't even look at the barrels. Bard waited for a while, to see if the elf would go away. It didn't seem like it.

”Is there something I can do for you?” Bard asked, finally.

The elf smiled. Or perhaps it was more that the corners of his mouths twitched up slightly, while the rest of his face remained completely the same, but it was what the elf probably considered a smile. He regarded Bard under heavy eyelids.

”I do not often associate myself with the race of men,” the elf told, his voice low and deep, each word chosen carefully. ”Certainly not ones that act like you.”

”What? Am I expected to curtsy?” Bard said, and this made the elf smile again, a bit wider, with a hint of teeth showing, but there was no answer. Bard sighed to himself. He caught a glimpse of the barrels riding downstream, so he got up and walked past the elf, almost brushing their shoulders together. He could have curved a little to avoid the elf completely, but he didn't, because this was his boat, and he was too stubborn to show that the elf was making him nervous.

He was well aware of the elf still watching him as he gathered the barrels, first to the shore and then to the boat.

”What do they call you, human?” the elf asked, as Bard dragged the first barrel by him on the boat.

”I hardly think I owe you an answer,” Bard grumbled. The elf raised his eyebrows, clearly amused, and waited, silent and unblinking and staring at Bard, until he finally gave in:

”I'm Bard. May I know your name?”

”It's of no importance.”

”Oh, really.” Bard set down the barrel, and put his hands on his hips giving the elf a glare. ”Fine then Of no importance of Mirkwood forest, have it your way. Though I think that after this you can't comment on my manners anymore.”

The elf laughed, laughter the sound of silver bells. They didn't talk after that. The elf had taken a seat on one of the barrels. When Bard had managed to get the final barrel in the boat, he waited for a while for the elf to take the hint and get off. It looked like the elf had no intention of doing so, so Bard only shrugged and loosened the ropes on the boat. The boat, rocking, caught into a current and started drifting towards the lake.

Just before the boat reached the lake, the elf stood up and ran across the deck, jumping off, and gracefully landing on the bank of the river. Without stopping he ran into the forest. Bard only shook his head.

\- - 

The elf was there the next time, sitting on a barrel with his long legs crossed. Bard only rolled his eyes at the sight.

”Polite as always,” the elf said.

”I thought there were supposed to be no more comments about my manners.”

”I made no such promises.”

The elf turned his head slightly, to look into the forest, at something only he could see. Bard noted, once again, how inhuman the elf was, every gesture and every little movement deliberate. There seemed to be no more conversation happening, at that moment, so Bard set off to work. He was getting quite used to the elf following his every movement.

”You carry a bow,” the elf noted, at some point.

”I do,” Bard answered. ”So glad you noticed. There are things in these woods I wouldn't want to face without a weapon. But I'm sure you know all about them.”

The elf ignored the last part, and tilting his head, said:  
”So you know how to use it?”

”Not as good as an elf. But I can hit a mark.”

”Can you hit that tree?” the elf asked, pointing at the tree on the other side of the river. It was pretty far away, but Bard set down the barrel he was carrying and put an arrow to his bow, aimed, and shot. The arrow flew through the air, and slammed into the tree. The elf only gave a short nod of approval. Bard grunted.

When Bard turned to pick the barrel up again, the elf started walking towards the edge of the forest.

”Good day to you too!” Bard yelled after him. The elf stopped, turned and raised his hand in a greeting, and was gone.

\- -

They did not talk much. The elf seemed to get his kicks just watching him work. Bard grumbled, especially if the elf was ever in the way. This seemed to amuse the elf greatly. Occasionally he deliberately stepped in front of Bard's way, just to see the reaction. Most of the times Bard walked around him, muttering curses. Sometimes he kicked the elf in the ankles, since the elf, though weird and not exactly the most comfortable companion, had shown no hostility so far. This little bit of aggressive behavior seemed to fascinate the elf.

Once they were lifting some barrels, well, Bard was doing the lifting and the elf was watching him, sitting on a barrel, his fancy boots leaning against the sides of the barrel.

”Why do you do this work?” the elf asked.

”It pays well,” Bard answered. ”It's relatively easy, even with the ever-present chance of getting mauled by a giant beast, a fate, which I have managed to avoid, thankfully. And it's a job where I don't get in trouble, as they say.”

The elf raised his eyebrows. Bard set down another barrel, and leaned against it catching his breath.

”I am not exactly in the good graces of the Master of the Laketown,” he said finally. ”In this job I can't do much that would... upset him.”

”And what does that mean?”

Bard looked at the elf, though the blue eyes showed nothing but half-hearted curiosity.

”It means that I have a tendency of not following orders, not keeping my mouth shut, when it probably should be, questioning authority. That sort of stuff.”

”So you're a rebel, then.”

”Wouldn't consider myself one, not exactly. I'm just refusing to follow orders that aren't good for the people. Wouldn't you do the same?”

The elf shrugged.

”The rulers of elves are different from the rulers of men. Less fickle. More patient and wise.”

Bard laughed, shaking his head.

”In my experience, I have found that they are pretty much all the same, full-blown bastards the lot.”

The elf laughed, turning his head away. This time the sound was more of a low, throaty sound.

”Anyway,” Bard continued. ”I want to stay out of too much trouble and because I am the only one who agreed to do this job, Master can grumble all he wants, but he can't get rid of me permanently. I have a family to look after, you know.”

The elf perked up upon hearing this.

”A family?” he asked.

”Three kids. Son and two daughters.”

”And a wife?”

”My wife passed away several years ago,” Bard said.

”My condolences.”

Bard didn't answer. He unloaded the last barrels onto the shore and started undocking. The elf was left on the shore. This time he didn't disappear off to the woods, but instead stayed in the bank staring at the boat.

”I'll see you again!” Bard shouted at the elf. The elf stuck his hand up in a greeting, and stayed where he was until Bard disappeared to the lake.

\- -

”I have a son too,” the elf said. Bard looked up from his place on the dock. The elf was sitting opposite him. They were waiting for some barrels. Bard looked the elf up and down, his fancy clothes and his ageless face, his bright blue eyes and their coldness. It was hard to imagine him as a father.

”And a wife?”

The elf tilted his head, his eyes slipping close.

”Your son's mother?”

”She is no longer with us,” the elf answered. ”It happened a while ago.”

”I'm sorry.”

They were in silence for a while, until they could hear the barrels floating down the river. The elf followed Bard to the bank and watched him start pulling them up from the water.

”My son told me that I am too old and disinterested,” the elf said. ”That I should be more curious about the world outside our borders.”

”And what caused him to make such a statement?” Bard asked, amused.

”I gave him a scolding, because he and his friend had wandered too far away from others. My son is on patrol duty in the forest, getting too far off alone could mean serious trouble.”

”I understand.”

Bard stole a glance at the elf, while climbing out of the river with another barrel. He wondered how much it must worry him that his son had to venture into the forest every day. Though, he supposed, that this son was probably more than well equipped to deal with whatever the forest would throw at him. Still, a father was a father. 

”So, this is you being curious?” Bard asked. The elf shrugged with one shoulder. ”Fair enough, I guess, though this is not so far away from your borders. We're literally right next to them.”

”As I said I don't usually associate myself with your kind.”

”Well, this should be a wild ride for you.”

The elf's lips twitched up into another one of his smiles. Bard couldn't tell if he had noticed the sarcasm or not. That was the thing with elves, unfortunately.

\- -

The elf became an unnerving constant in his life. It was more unnerving to realize that he really didn't mind the company, nor the watching. He had became comfortable around the elf, who, if odd, could be nice, for an elf, if he so chose. They talked, mostly about Laketown and politics, sometimes about their children. The elf seemed to have an endless supply of fascination towards Bard's children, since young kids were a rarity among the elves. The elf's own son had been a full adult for couple of hundreds of years already, so talking about everyday activities of his kids was a delight to the elf.

Neither of them minded that their conversations had a tendency of being short and to the point and ending abruptly and awkwardly. Bard still didn't know the elf's name, but he figured the elf would tell in his own time. 

Turned out he didn't, instead there was that one time, their conversation was cut short, because suddenly there were at least a dozen of elves on the riverbank, all heavily armed and all looking extremely worried.

The elf stood up and took a couple of steps towards them. Bard set down the barrel he had been carrying and turned towards the elves. The elves were giving him quick, wary glances.

”What is it?” the elf asked, a commanding tone in his voice Bard hadn't heard after the couple of first meetings.

”King Thranduil,” one of the elves began. ”There was some trouble in the north. One of the patrols ran into spiders. Legolas...”

Bard looked at the elf, Thranduil, who was suddenly standing very rigid, and indescribable panic flashed briefly in those blue eyes, before it was quickly subdued.

”Legolas was injured, my king,” the elf said.

Thranduil nodded at them, and offering a quick final glance to Bard, started to run towards the woods, the rest of the elves on his tail.

\- -

The next time Bard went to the river, Thranduil wasn't there waiting for him, like usual. Only after he had got most of the barrels out on the shore did Thranduil appear to the edge of the woods.

He approached Bard carefully, face a mask.

”How's your son?” Bard asked.

”My son...” Thranduil paused. ”He has recovered.”

”I'm glad.”

Thranduil regarded Bard for a long time, in silence.

”You are cross with me.”

Bard only grunted as an answer, lifting the final wine barrel to his shoulder and carrying it to the shore. Thranduil was standing by the barrels, looking uncomfortable. It was hard to pick up with such a controlled face, but Bard had learned that there were some slight clues he could pick up, and the discomfort was now clear in Thranduil's posture. Bard set down the last barrel and looked at Thranduil.

”I don't like being lied to,” Bard said.

”I was merely withholding information.”

”Not exactly telling a lie is not the same as not lying. I am no one's chew toy. You should have told me that, yes, I do need to curtsy.”

”Human pride,” Thranduil sighed.

”As you say, you majesty,” Bard grunted, doing a very exaggerated bow. Then without waiting for Thranduil to answer, he turned around and returned to his boat. Thranduil didn't follow.

\- -

Thranduil didn't come the next time. The riverbank felt empty without the elf king. But at the same time, at least Bard got his work done much quicker.

\- -

There was no elf in sight the next time either. Bard wondered if this was going to be the new permanent state of things. He couldn't tell if he minded. But then, when he sensed someone watching him, he felt a sudden surge of expectation and joy, he had no idea the origin of.

He turned around and there was an elf. It was not Thranduil, which was disappointing, but there was something familiar about him. The elf was dressed in much rougher clothes; clothes of a warrior rather than a noble. His hair was blonde coupled with dark brows and when the elf approached Bard, he could see the same shade of blue in his eyes that Thranduil had, though these were not as icy.

”You must be Bard,” the elf said, his voice light, but with a hint of arrogance in it.

”And you are?” Bard asked, loading another barrel into the boat.

”Legolas.”

”Son of Thranduil?”

”Exactly.” Legolas followed him to the boat. ”May I sit?”

”You've got manners, unlike your father, that much I can tell. Go ahead.”

Legolas sat on one of the barrels, crossing his legs much like his father.

”How can I help you?” Bard asked.

”I wanted to take a better look at you. My father's very taken with you. You can imagine that this does not happen often.”

Bard grunted.

”He hasn't really gotten out in... Well. Yeah.” Legolas ended his sentence with a long sigh. 

They didn't speak after that, Legolas watched Bard load up his boat much like his father had. The son was more lively, much more restless than Thranduil. He was listening to the noises coming from the forest, turning his head, though Bard didn't pick up anything unusual.

”Why exactly are you here?” Bard asked, setting the last barrel down and placing his hands on his hips.

”I'm not here on behalf of my father, if that's what you're wondering.”

Bard clicked his tongue.

”You are angry with him,” Legolas stated.

”He didn't tell me that he was a king. And I am about as common as they get. It does feel a little like he was playing with me.”

”I assure he didn't mean it like that. Probably. Anyway, my father is not in the habit of admitting any wrong-doings, let alone making apologies.” Legolas' smile had a hint of bitterness in it, but he had got it to look much more natural. ”He prefers to wait things out. In your case, with your lifespan that's hardly a good option. So I took the matters into my own hands.”

”Does your father know you're here?” Bard asked.

”He soon will,” Legolas answered. ”A prince in these woods can't go anywhere without it being reported.”

”And this is your plan?”

”He'll come and talk to you next time you're here. I promise.”

”What if I don't want to talk to him?” Bard grunted.

”You did look quite disappointed when you saw me. Or were you expecting someone else?”

Bard looked at Legolas, who was just smiling innocently.

”I hate smart kids,” Bard grumbled to himself, and Legolas giggled. Bard waited until Legolas got his face back to the mask of politeness, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement, before he said:  
”I'd better head out. I hope you don't get into too much trouble for this.”

”Not too much.” Legolas shrugged.

”Don't let that old bastard push you around,” Bard said. ”You're a good kid.”

”I'll make sure to relay the message,” Legolas said.

”Wait, what?”

But Legolas was already up and going away. It seemed he was just as good at ending conversations as his father. Bard considered shouting after him, but decided that Thranduil deserved to be called bastard every once in a while, more than most people. 

\- -

True to Legolas' word, Thranduil was there waiting for him the next time. Bard didn't even manage to dock before Thranduil was on board, his brow furrowed as he leaned uncomfortably close to Bard.

”You talked to Legolas,” Thranduil said. There was a tone of threat in his voice, like somehow speaking to his kin was the worst offense that one could make. Bard met his gaze unfazed. Then he suddenly grinned, and even wider when it made Thranduil blink.

Bard walked past him, to check on the barrels on board. Thranduil stalked after him, seeming a bit unsure.

”Yes, we had a talk,” Bard said. ”I assumed that wasn't off-limits, since he came to me.”

Thranduil let out a low hum.

”What did you two talk about?”

”Depends,” Bard said. ”What did he tell you we talked about?”

Thranduil frowned. He opened his mouth, but Bard cut him off.

”You may be a king, for all I care, but you are not my king, and conversations between me and your son are just that, between us two.”

”You are still cross with me.” Thranduil sounded amused. Bard turned around, walked to him, way too close, after all two could play this game, even if it meant he had to crane his neck to be able to meet his eyes.

”What do you desire? An apology?” Thranduil asked, his eyes slipping half-close, and a mocking smile gracing his lips.

”Oh no. This will do,” Bard said, and pushed. Thranduil lost his balance, mostly out of surprise, tripped and fell over board. After Bard heard the splash of an elf hitting the water Bard didn't wait around to face Thranduil. He grabbed a barrel and carried it to the shore.

When he got back to the boat Thranduil was sitting on the deck, soaking wet, hair glued to his face and glaring at Bard.

”Most is forgiven,” Bard said and laughed. To his surprise, Thranduil let out a laugh, hiding it quickly behind his hand, turning away. Shrugging to himself Bard continued unloading the barrels, while Thranduil just sat there, slowly forming a puddle on the deck. At least he had the decency to empty the water from his boots back into the river.

When Bard had got all the barrels on the shore, he sat down next to Thranduil, though not too close, because he didn't want to get wet as well.

”You are full of surprises, Bard of Laketown. No one has ever done that to me.”

”What is it going to cost me? My head on a plate?”

”I couldn't do that, could I?”

To his credit, Bard considered this for a while.

”I think you could, actually, being a king and all. Master would probably be delighted. I'd appreciate if you didn't, though.”

”I would not wish your children to go fatherless,” Thranduil said finally.

”I am glad,” Bard answered. They sat there together in silence for a while.

”Legolas did tell me one part of your conversation.”

”Oh?”

”Don't let that old bastard push you around?”

Bard let out a nervous laugh. Thranduil tilted his head, running his fingers through his wet hair.

”It's the old part I mostly object to,” Thranduil noted.

”But you are old? I mean, you're an elf.”

”I may be old in years compared to you, but time works different for elves.”

”Keep telling yourself that,” Bard said, getting up. He walked past Thranduil and quickly ruffled his hair, before realizing that this was the first time he had touched the elf in a casual way with no real reason. Bard almost froze, almost turned to look at Thranduil, but instead he continued on to the dock, started to untie the robes. He stole a glance of Thranduil, who was sitting where he had left him, looking very casual, in a way that was not natural. When Thranduil caught Bard staring something flashed in his eyes, something that Bard couldn't read at this distance.

When the boat left the dock, Thranduil took off.

\- - 

There were no repercussions after the incident, at least none that Bard could pick up. They continued their meetings by the river, and Bard continued to complain about the Master of the Laketown and his antics. One such time, came to a relatively abrupt end, when Thranduil, who up to that point had just been listening, his head cocked, said:

”If you so desire, I can make you the new Master of Laketown.”

”I don't want that.”

Thranduil regarded Bard with half-closed eyes.

”I really think that it's better not to owe you anything,” Bard told.

”Or maybe you recall your forefather's failures, and you fear that you are doomed to repeat them.”

”What do you mean?”

”Your kin was in Dale, wasn't he? When the dragon came.” Thranduil paused. ”The man who couldn't slay the dragon.”

Bard looked at Thranduil, but the elf's polite stare revealed nothing.

”There wasn't much help from elves that day either,” Bard noted, a warning clear in his voice. Thranduil's mouth twitched.

”I needed to keep my people safe. There was no reason for me to throw my people into a needless slaughter.”

”There was no reason for the slaughter of Dale's people, either,” Bard spat out. Thranduil shrugged his slender shoulders.

”It was the dwarves' gold that drew Smaug in the first place.”

”If it woke again, would elves help Laketown?”

Thranduil was silent for a long while, eyes cast towards the bright blue sky.

”There is a darkness in my forest, an evil that manifests itself into spiders, foul creatures that have taken root in my homeland. I have my hands full just keeping them at bay. And there are reports of orcs in raising numbers, trolls coming down from the mountains, shadows rising.” Thranduil turned to look at Bard, his blue eyes shining. ”Let us hope, Bard of Laketown, that the dragon doesn't wake.”

\- -

”People are starting to notice,” Bard said, carrying one of the barrels to the shore. Thranduil was watching him, as usual, leaning against a tree.

”Notice what?”

”That these trips are taking longer than usual.”

”Your children asking questions?” Thranduil sounded amused.

”Oh, my children know,” Bard said. ”It's hard to keep anything secret from them. And I wouldn't want to. Well, they don't know that you're royalty, I haven't been able to figure out how to drop that into a conversation yet.” Bard offered a cheeky grin. ”They're curious about you, and elves in general.”

”Maybe I should pay them a visit.”

”You? In Laketown?” Bard laughed. 

”What?” Thranduil's lips curved upwards.

”I just think you.” Bard vaguely waved his hand at Thranduil's fine clothes. ”Wouldn't fit with the scenery.”

”Do you want me to pay a visit?”

”No,” Bard said, all signs of amusement disappearing from his voice. ”No, no. That would... No.”

Thranduil just smiled, so Bard added a couple of ”No”s. Just to be safe.

\- -

”You know, there's one thing I still can't exactly figure out,” Bard said. They were both sitting on barrels in Bard's boat. Thranduil, his legs crossed and staring at his fingernails, raised his gaze just long enough so he could quirk his eyebrow at Bard, with a familiar tilt of the hand

”Why do you hang here so often?”

Thranduil scoffed.

”I am not here all the time,” he answered. ”Only when you are.”

”Yeah, but I'm here a lot of the time. Don't you have kingly duties or something?”

”Surely a king can have some hobbies?”

”Is that what I am to you?” Bard asked.

”Is there another title you'd wish to have?” Thranduil inquired.

”What are my options?”

Bard turned to look at Thranduil. Thranduil frowned, seemed to consider this for a while.

”I do not have much experience in personal relations between men and elves.” Thranduil hesitated, so unusual to him, but before he could continue he suddenly turned towards the woods. Bard hadn't heard a thing, but he wasn't an elf. There was a familiar-looking elf approaching.

”Legolas,” Thranduil shouted.

”I apologize for interruption,” Legolas said to Bard, who only nodded. Then Legolas turned to his father, and started talking quickly in Elvish. It seemed urgent, but not a catastrophe.

Thranduil listened intently, nodding every now and then. When Legolas was finished, Thranduil was silent for half a second, before answering. His voice had a commanding tone, Legolas was standing upright, like a soldier.

Apparently they had settled the matter, because Thranduil stood up. Both nodded at Bard, who merely waved his hand to let them know that it was okay to go. Legolas grinned at him bright and sweet, while Thranduil was already off the boat.

Soon they both disappeared into the forest. Bard set out to work.

\- -

Three days later and Bard was in his house mending some shirts with his eldest daughter Sigrid, while his younger daughter Tilda was sitting in the corner playing with a wooden doll.

Suddenly Bard's son, Bain, ran into the house. The boy was jumping up and down, in excitement. Bard set down the shirt he was working on.

”Bain, calm down. What's the matter?”

Bain grinned wide, began to answer couple of times, only to be so excited that he couldn't form the words in a way that they could be comprehend. Finally, after breathing in and out couple of times, he managed to blurt out:  
”Elves!”

Bard stood up, his chair falling back, clattering against the floor.

”He wouldn't,” he growled.

”Who wouldn't?” Sigrid asked.

”Wouldn't what?” Tilda continued.

”I am going to murder that bastard.”

Bard started towards the door. His kids looked at each other and then ran after Bard. They had to actually run to keep up with their father's stride.

The elves weren't hard to find, there were hundreds of people, seemed like half the town was there, packed together tightly, because everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the elves, but no one wanted to be too close. Bard pushed through the crowd, to get to the middle.

Thranduil was there with five elves in full armor, one of them Legolas. Thranduil's clothes were finer than what he usually wore when he met up with Bard, and there was a crown of sort on his head, made of wood. So unfitting were these tall, radiant creatures among the dirty men and women of Laketown. They seemed dangerous, their eyes watchful, their weapons, though safe in their sheathes, still sharper than anything in the whole town, and the dark armor, and their pale skin contrast so strong that it made colors of the town look faded.

Master of the Laketown was there, almost on his knees, his head bowed, and talking to Thranduil. Thranduil wasn't looking at him, instead he was scouting the crowd. When Bard and his kids broke through the ring of people surrounding the elves, Thranduil's lips twitched up for a second, and he started walking towards them. Tilda grabbed Bard by the arm, gasping a little, when she realized how tall the elves were.

”Okay, be polite, and remember to bow,” Bard whispered to his children.

Thranduil stopped in front of them, all of them curtsied, Thranduil's only answer was a curious tilt of the head. Bard straightened himself, all around them the people were backing away from the elven king and his soldiers. Bard could see Master of the Laketown hesitating, whether or not to try to talk Thranduil. He decided not to, but gave a glare at Bard.

”What are you doing here?” Bard hissed stepping closer, so that no one would hear.

”Just a friendly visit.”

”After I specifically told you not to?”

Thranduil only smiled. Bard looked around, at the people of Laketown staring at him. He couldn't have a conversation in a place like this, especially with Master watching. So he grabbed Sigrid with his other hand, who in turn took Bain's hand. Bard started to drag his children back towards their home. The elves must have followed, because all of the men let them through no problem, and Bard's children kept glancing behind themselves. Bard didn't look back until he was home, and even then he thought for a brief second about just slamming the door to Thranduil's face. It wouldn't do any good.

So he waited by the door, as Thranduil exchanged couple of words in Elvish with the others. In the end only him and Legolas entered the house, bowing their heads only so they wouldn't hit them on the low ceiling.

”Sit where you will,” Bard grumbled. Thranduil took a seat on a table, crossing his legs, as usual. Legolas offered a package to Bard.

”What is it?”

”A little present, for your children,” Thranduil answered. Bard hesitated, but finally took it, pushing it into a chair next to him. Legolas, after looking around, settled on sitting on a bed. Sigrid, Bain and Tilda were sitting by Bard, looking at the two elves with mix of curiosity and fear. The elves looked back at them, with as much curiosity, having not seen many children before.

”These are Thranduil and Legolas of Mirkwood,” Bard said. ”These are my children Sigrid, Bain and Tilda.”

”It's a pleasure,” Thranduil said, cocking his head. Legolas just nodded.

”Are you father's elven friend?” Sigrid asked. Thranduil nodded.

”Are you a lord or something?” Bain asked, getting courage from his sister. ”Because daddy told us to bow, and we don't bow even to the Master. And you got a crown, thing?”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at Bard, who didn't answer his gaze, instead turning to Bain.

”It's just common courtesy. But yes, he's the king of Mirkwood.”

The children gasped, staring at Thranduil like he had just turned into something quite other, suddenly even more shy and curious than before.

”Does common courtesy not mean you can't call him a bastard?” Bain asked suddenly. Legolas couched, and had to turn away.

”Such language you're teaching them,” Thranduil said.

”You should be getting used to me calling you bastard by now,” Bard said. The kids had already turned their attention to Legolas, who was looking uncomfortable under all the attention, his other hand was twitching around his sword handle.

”Who's he then?” Bain askeed. ”He's got a cool armor, and a sword.”

”He's Thranduil's son.”

”Can't be,” Tilda said. ”He's so tall.”

”Is he a prince?” Sigrid sighed.

”Yes.” Bard looked at Legolas. ”Why don't you all go talk to Legolas for a while, because I have to exchange couple of words with my friend here.”

Legolas looked panicked for a second, almost turning to his father for help, but Bard was already ushering the kids to him. The kids were a bit wary, but then Tilda climbed onto the bed, and leaned on Legolas' arm.

”You're pretty,” she told.

”Umm, thanks?”

”Just roll with it,” Bard said to him, and walked to Thranduil.

”Your kids are lovely,” Thranduil all but purred.

”What are you doing here?” Bard growled.

”As I said, just paying a visit.”

”Kings don't just pay visits, not in this town, not to people like me.”

Thranduil's eyes slipped close, and he was turning to look at the kids playing with Legolas, but Bard grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look at him.

”Listen, Master was already accusing me of planting treacherous thoughts into the minds of the town folk. This whole ordeal is painting a target on my back. I don't need that kind of attention, I need to keep my kids safe.”

Thranduil considered this. He then grabbed Bard's wrist and forced the hand holding his face down. The fingers were cold, their touch firm. 

”You have been gathering that kind of attention without me for years. All this speak of change, all of these little deeds you have been committing, against the Master. The target's been on your back for a long while. Yes, this changes things. Now the Master knows you and your family are under the Elven King's protection, and were anything happen to you, there would be consequences. Laketown's trade with the elves bring a lot of money, the Master wouldn't risk it. A lot of politics run on greed alone.”

Thranduil let go of Bard's wrist, and placed his hands on his lap. 

”And can I count on that forever? On this, relationship, whatever it is, that we're having?”

”Even if you would not wish to see me again, I would not wish harm falling upon your family.”

”But what about you? What if the Elven King finds another hobby?”

Thranduil looked up suddenly, he frowned, confused. There didn't seem to be an answer ready for him, so Bard turned to the kids. Legolas was just explaining something to Bain and Tilda, while Sigrid was braiding his hair. Legolas looked like he was caged in, trying to lean as much as he could away from the kids.

”Okay, children.” Bard clapped his hands together. ”Let's not bother our fine elven friends too much. They're leaving.”

Bard ignored his children's complaints, as they got up from the bed and all grabbed onto him, all trying to talk at the same time. Thranduil was already at the door, looking at them.

”I'll see you next time,” Bard said. Thranduil nodded and Bard could have sworn he saw a brief glimpse of relief crossing Thranduil's face with these words. Suddenly his children decided that taking one last look at the Elven King, who wasn't so scary after all, would be really fun, so they filed out of the door after him, talking or clinging to him, much to Thranduil's horror.

Bard turned to Legolas, who was working the half-finished braid off his hair.

”I hope they weren't too much trouble.”

”Ah, no, they were fine, even if a bit enthusiastic,” Legolas said. ”You looked worried when you talked to ada.”

”It's just, if he decided to withdraw his protection, I am going to end up with a knife sticking out of my back.”

”He won't.”

”I wouldn't blame him if he did, I've been calling him names and manhandling him since day one.”

Legolas shook his head, laughing.

”He won't, trust me. He likes you.”

Bard opened his mouth to question, but Legolas walked past him, out of the door. Bard followed him. Thranduil had managed to distract the kids with other elves, who were looking different mix of unsure, curious, terrified and amused. Bard walked to his kids, gathering them up. They and the elves exchanged couple of words more, and then the elves were gone, as suddenly as they had appeared.

”Let's get inside, before we get into any trouble.”

All of the kids started babbling about something or other, as Bard gently led them inside, making sure to lock the door. He didn't notice that Sigrid had already picked up the packet the elves had left, and was pulling it open. He only noticed when he heard Sigrid let out a delighted sigh. She was holding up a dress, elvenmade and brilliantly white. Tilda and Bain were picking their own clothes out of the pack.

”They're gorgeous,” Sigrid said.

”They might be too big for you,” Bard said. ”We'll have to see tomorrow.”

”But dad, I want to try them now!” Tilda complained, clutching her own dress to her chest.

”No, no, it's bed time for young ladies and the lord of the house. Come on now.”

It took a while to get the children to settle down, but finally they had all drifted off. Bard sat awake for a long time, listening to the noise of the town, the sound of Lake's water, a constant, and his kids' breathing. And under the candle's, that burned bright on the table, light he watched his children's peaceful sleep.

He looked over the clothes the elves had left them, silken and finer made than anything Bard had ever seen. He wouldn't want his kids to wear them, they would stand out too much.

Suddenly he just grumbled under a heavy sigh. What had become of his life? At first, when he met Thranduil the elf had been just a nuisance, and a creep. He was still a bit of a creep, at least based on the Laketown's people's reaction to him. So it was not him who had changed, it was Bard. He had become so incredibly comfortable around the Elven King, and...

Legolas had said Thranduil liked him, and what was that supposed to even mean? He hadn't personally noticed it, but it was hard to see anything in that face. 

On the other hand Thranduil had let him push him around, and he was a king, and, well, Bard didn't exactly treat him like a king.

He wished, like he often did, that his wife would be here right now. She had been the person he could tell everything to. Now the closest to that kind of a person was probably Thranduil himself. And what did that say about him?

And Thranduil preferred to wait everything out. That was never an option to Bard, not in the volume Thranduil did it. They would get nowhere with this, this thing, unless Bard himself got them to talk about it like grown-up people they were.

The candle on the table had burnt out a long ago, when Bard came to a decision. It was probably not the best decision he had ever made in his life, but if Bard was something it was stubborn. And when he finally wandered to his bed, it felt like a big weight had been lifted off his shoulder, and he fell asleep almost immediately.

\- - 

The next couple of days Bard sent in restless state. He kept playing conversations over and over in his head, always changing just a minor detail, tweaking a bit, well aware that this was not how it was going to go, when the actual time for that conversation came.

His kids noticed it, and being smart as they were, of course immediately connected it with the visit of the elves. Bard shut down their questions a bit too hard, and regretted it immediately. He then sat them down and informed them that he was merely worried about Master's reactions. Sigrid didn't buy it, but she kept her mouth shut after that.

Besides it was at least partially true. He was worried, because Master had been so quiet. There had been no word after the elves had left, and that made him look over his shoulders more than often, when he was doing his business in Laketown. Maybe Thranduil had gone and paid an official visit to the Master after he had left from Bard's house. If that had happened there probably would have been a certain amount of threatening happening. It would have been nice to know if that had happened, so he didn't feel that bit of dread every time his kids left the house. That maybe this would be the time they wouldn't come back, that they would be arrested, or worse,

It didn't happen, of course. But Bard worried, and could hardly sit still.

Then came the day for him to go and pick up some barrels from the river. His hands were shaking when he walked up to the boat, and he had to do everything in his will to keep them steady.

\- -

Thranduil was there, a familiar tall figure waiting for him. Nothing in the elf's appearance was unnerving to him anymore, it was too familiar. Bard looked at him, and oh how his stomach lurched with nervousness and anticipation, like he was a young lad again. 

Thranduil's face told nothing on whether he was expecting a heart-to-heart or just a regular kind of a meeting for them, a meeting they had repeated at least twenty, thirty times by now. 

Bard waited in the boat for Thranduil to board. He rather kept the conversation on his ground, because he wanted at least that advance.

”How do you always know to be here when I am?” Bard asked.

”Good guessing,” Thranduil said, settling on one of the barrels as usual. Bard wondered if that meant that he just stood there hours waiting for him, but a king wouldn't do that, surely? Well, one never knew with elves.

”The kids thank you for your generous gifts,” Bard said.

”They were to their liking?”

”A bit big, some, but we got it under control. I'm a bit surprised that you didn't include any clothes for me.”

Thranduil let out a low chuckle. When he spoke, his voice had the calculated quality of amusement.

”Oh, believe me, I would have loved to get in something a bit finer. But I thought it wouldn't have gone over very well. Something is bothering you.” The last sentence was a statement. ”Something about my visit?”

Bard sighed. It took him a long while to figure out which was the best way to start this particular conversation. It seemed that the fact that he had played it in his head for almost a week didn't help at all.

”It does sort of feel that you're blackmailing me into spending time with you, which is not exactly nice thing to do, but something I'd expect from you. And you know what. I found out I really don't mind.”

Thranduil only let out a slow hum as a response, so Bard decided to be blunt.

”Legolas told me that you liked me.”

Thranduil didn't even miss a beat.

”Did he?”

”Yes. That's not a light statement. It's also not the first time Legolas has tried to communicate it with me. And I know that you're not exactly the best person with this whole emotion-thing. I can see how much you care for your son, but how much of this does he know? You treat him like a soldier most of the time.”

”Don't bring my son in this.”

”No, point taken, that's a whole another conversation we are going to have. Just an observation on my part. So I have to wonder how much am I missing?”

Thranduil didn't look at him, instead just kept staring at his boots. His composition still held. Bard had to give him credit for that, if someone had asked him a question like that he would have probably ran or something. He waited for him to answer. And waited. After at least ten minutes, Bard finally continued:

”You know, I haven't got all day.”

Thranduil looked at him, displeased at being interrupted.

”That's the thing with you men. You haven't got the time.”

”Not in a way that you do. Is it a problem?”

”It's... It's interesting.”

”Okay, so I'm interesting. Anything else?”

Thranduil hesitated, again. Bard let out a sigh.

”Let me start then. I look forward to meeting you each time, in a way that I really don't quite understand, because I haven't got all the time in the world to think about these things. I think it's for the better actually, my kids wouldn't like it.”

”You had a wife,” Thranduil mumbled.

”Don't you think that I miss her every day? But,” Bard bit the inside of his cheek. ”But with you it's not that bad.”

They were silent for a long while, Thranduil just looking at him. Bard, though feeling impatient and just a bit silly, gave him the time. Thranduil's voice was silent, not at all commanding, when he said:

”It's not wise for an elf to fall for a mortal man.”

Bard walked up to him, putting his hands on each side of his legs and leaning too close.

”The question, as I see it, is which one are you going to regret more, taking this chance or not.”

Thranduil studied him for a long while, especially his eyes. Bard tried to meet his gaze without blinking, but he was only a man. Thranduil put a hand on his shoulder, its touch light and unsure. Then he smiled, and Bard took it as a sign, so he leaned closer and kissed him, slow and light. 

”Someday you'll push too far,” Thranduil said, when the kiss ended, but he didn't sound upset.

”Well I already pushed you into a river once, so I don't know where else I can really take this.”

Thranduil's only answer was to wrap his arms around Bard's and lean his head against his shoulder. They stood like this for a while, Bard trying to pick out the sound of Thranduil's heartbeat, and not quite finding it, and Thranduil being completely still. Finally Bard struggled free, complaining:

”This can't be good for your back.”

Thranduil let go of him slowly, like he would have been fine just being like this for an eternity. 

”Besides, I have work to do,” Bard said. He picked up the first barrel, and Thranduil followed him. It felt like nothing had really changed.

**Author's Note:**

> ((And they lived happily ever after. At least, until the dwarves showed up. 
> 
> Damn those dwarves.))


End file.
